Absolutely Right
by Green Mountain
Summary: Alternate History- England and America face the aftermath of a failed revolution.


A Brief Author's Note:

This will be, most likely, the fluffiest alternate history hetalia fanfiction out there. If you are interested in more angst, I recommend _Grey Skies over London_ and its sequel, _Every Generation_ , which are also about an alternate ending to the American Revolution- a much darker one. Naturally, though, I would ask you to read this story first. Enjoy!

-HERE WE GOOOOoooooooo_

He found him at the kitchen table, reading a copy of _King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table._

Wearing the simple clothing he had favored before all this _revolution_ mess, reading the book he had always asked England to read from, sitting at the table where he had been the _only_ person who didn't mind Arthur's cooking, Alfred seemed… docile. Calm. Submissive. And so very _young_. Too young.

It was a few moments before Alfred's eyes stopped moving across the page, and a few more before he gently closed the worn book and set it on the table.

Green and blue met as their eyes locked. Neither spoke for a moment, and the Alfred asked the only question that really mattered. "Are you going to kill me?"

Arthur drew his pistol and approached the young na- _colony_. "I should," he mused, the click of _ready to fire_ loud in the still room. The British Empire raised the gun to point it directly between the beautiful, rebellious eyes of his beautiful, rebellious colony.

Alfred's gaze remained locked on Arthur's. And in this day- hour- _moment_ of reckoning…

Neither of them moved.

Could he do it?

 _Yes._

 _No._

 _He had to._

 _No he didn't._

 _For the empire._

 _For America._

 _For the empire!_

 _For Alfred._

 _He had to end the rebellion, once and for all. Now._

"No, I'm not." Arthur pointed the pistol straight up and shot, the bullet dodging in the thick wood of the ceiling. "But parliament might," England slid the gun back into its holster and grabbed Alfred's arm, pulling him to his feet. "We're going to London, my boy."

"…Let us, therefore, treat out brothers with kindness and compassion, and welcome these, our 13 lost lambs, back into the fold. May Britannia and her daughter be reunited in the natural love of parent and child- this is my hope and my prayer." Edmund Burke gave a short bow to his fellow parliament members, then returned to his designated seat to a mixture of polite applause and uneasy whispers.

"He's very good at speaking, isn't he?" Alfred commented.

"The phrase is 'is he not,' and yes, Burke can be quite eloquent." England glanced over at his young charge, who was sitting close- almost too close for comfort.

Alfred hummed softly to himself as Arthur draped one arm around him, taking the opportunity to slide a little closer. He could be so childish sometimes.

"Why do they always refer to us as girls? Most of us are men, right?"

Arthur shrugged. "I don't really know. Oh dear…"

A pudgy man wearing what were likely the world's most ridiculous shoes had stood up and was- with difficulty- maneuvering to the front of the room.

Arriving at the podium, the man took a moment to catch his breath, then opened his mouth. "Mr. Burke has ever been a friend and advocate of our American dominions- and I know that many of you would like very much to believe in his fanciful vision, but to _pardon_ the outrageous behavior of the American colonies is beyond all reason! The law demands justice! And that means punishment! To simply dismiss the actions of these _traitors-_ "

" _Traitors!?_ "

And just like that, the session dissolved into chaos.

It took almost a month, but the urgent need to make a decision finally overcame the intensity of both sides' passion for their own argument, and the day of the vote came. The question that would undoubtedly define the colonies- the empire- the _world_ would be decided.

Punishment or pardon?

Coercion or concession?

Justice or mercy?

The morning broke, the sunlight streaming through smoky grey clouds. Arthur would have thought it a bad omen, were the weather in London ever any different.

Alfred was visibly nervous. Arthur said nothing of it. The boy ate an uncharacteristically light breakfast, and didn't bother changing out of his pajamas. Arthur said nothing of it. The lad might be sentenced to death today. He could wear whatever he pleased.

Arthur tucked the young personification into bed, the awareness of the significance of the day like a heavy blanket over the entire room.

"Alfred,"

"Yeah?"

"Don't try to get up, at least until I get back, and try to get to sleep, all right?"

"Okay."

Arthur brushed Alfred's hair back. It was getting too long- he should have it cut. _If he lives, that is._

England hurried to the meeting, arriving just as Burke himself did.

"Edmund," the empire called.

"Yes…?" the human turned.

Arthur approached, coming up to the politician. "Edmund, on behalf of your country- and in the mane of all that you serve and uphold," England let the human _know- I am Britain- I am your nation_ \- and took one of the mortal's hands in both of his own, " _Save my son,"_

The man's eyes widened and England felt some of his power transfer to the mortal as the human accepted a command from his nation itself. "I will," he vowed.

The first to speak were, as they were called, the disciplinarians. They spoke with passion on the need to punish the colonies, to break the dominions and make an example that would dissuade forever another attempt at rebellion- from the 13 or anyone else.

Almost 12 of them spoke, each more dramatic and bloodthirsty than the last.

Edmund was known to have a close minority, and so was granted the last speech before the vote.

The Irish- born human stood at the platform and waited patiently until the last of the whispers had died out, and then he spoke.

"I could tell you of the validity of the Americans' concerns and grievances, but I have done that since before the rebellion began. I could tell you of the lost sheep and the prodigal son, and the love we need to present to our friends and our brothers. But I've already done that.

I could tell you of the coming bloodshed and the coming revolution, should you show no compassions, no mercy. But you know where that path leads.

"And so, at this hour of judgment -judgment not so much for them but for us…

"I plead with you all, in the name of all we seek to prosper and defend- in the name of Britannia herself-

"Save her children.

The essence- the power of England and Britain and _everything_ that meant washed over the mortals and filled the room, delivering one message and one message alone.

 _Save my child_.

And England knew that Alfred would live.

Alfred was lying on the bed, not having moved from where Arthur had put him. Blue eyes jumped to the door as England entered the room, following him as he approached.

The poor boy looked terrified.

Arthur sat on the bed and faced his younger brother, then gently pulled him up and into an embrace.

Alfred, a bit hesitantly, wrapped his arms around Arthur, and leaned his head on the Brit's shoulder.

England wanted the moment to last forever, but the sentence- the verdict- had to be delivered. To America. By him.

"Are you ready?" the nation asked, reaching up with one hand to play with Alfred's hair- a comforting gesture no one else knew of.

"No," America murmured.

"Me neither," England confessed. He took a deep breath, then began.

"The chaotic and unlawful rebellion of the 13 American colonies: Georgia, South Carolina, North Carolina, Virginia, New York, Delaware, Rhode Island, Maine, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, Maryland, Connecticut, and New Hampshire, being concluded, the immediate actions of Parliament are as follows."

Alfred was trembling. The ruling had to be delivered.

"For the purpose of establishing peace in the dominions, the following privileges are hereby suspended until peace once again rules in these troubled lands.

"The right of the press is suspended.

"The right to assemble is suspended."

Arthur could hear Alfred's uneven breathing- and knew that he was crying. The boy was shaking uncontrollably, clinging to his older brother as though the world was collapsing around him- which, Arthur supposed it was.

"Additionally, the Quartering Act and Sedition Acts are hereby rescinded…"

The act was long and more complicated than Arthur would have liked, its solemnity and Alfred's fear making the document difficult and tedious to deliver. But it had to be done.

"We pardon forever, in the name of compassion and Christlike brotherhood all accused or guilty of treason against the British Empire, and clear them of all said charges…"

Probably, the best line of the act. But not, unfortunately, the last.

When Arthur had finally finished reading – or rather, reciting- he was speaking from his national memory- the act, he fell silent.

Alfred, had stopped crying somewhere in the 3rd article, and now they sat together in silence.

"Iggy?"

"Yes?"

"Why…why are you being so nice to me?"

 _Oh Alfred_ , "Because," Arthur enveloped the colonies in his aura- his power. The young personification resisted for a moment, but almost instantly his own aura collapsed and the child- for a child he truly was- gave a contented sigh, safe in his motherland's loving embrace.

"This is where you belong." The empire smiled softly into America's golden- blond hair, the bond between them stronger than ever before. And in that moment they both knew without a shadow of a doubt that Britain was absolutely right.


End file.
